Just Like Me
by fourandtwenty
Summary: For all of Nymphadora Tonks' life, she's struggled to come to terms with her gift as a Metamorphmagus. When she finally finds a way to prove she has worth, it'll cost her more than she ever bargained for. Tonks&Bill, Tonks&Remus. Eventual M.
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

* * *

"Forgive me Father, for I have sinned. It has been three weeks since my last confession."

The words were muffled in the tiny confession booth of the cathedral she only visited in the middle of the night. The seat upon which she sat was flatly cushioned, but she was never in the booth long enough for the lack of comfort to become painful. Her hands were folded in her lap and her eyes were downcast, never looking through the grate at the priest who listened to her tell him the details about best and worst part of her life.

"My cousin died last night and I could have prevented it."

She never wasted her time or the priest's with her petty crimes against the God to which he'd devoted his life. She always cut right to the chase.

"If it was his time to return to the arms of God, there was nothing you could have done," the priest said in a quiet voice, and at those words her face scrunched up and she felt the beginnings of hot tears prickle in her eyes.

"Don't," she said in a voice so choked she surprised even herself. "Don't give me all of that _it was his time_ bollocks. It _wasn't_ his time, he was barely even thirty-six years old! Don't _tell_ me it was his bloody time!"

The priest remained quiet for a moment, allowing the sobbing woman the time to collect herself before he spoke.

"How do you think you could have prevented it?"

She sighed heavily. "I'm trained to prevent that sort of thing for happening. I should have done a better job, I should have—I should have gotten the information. I don't know how I missed it, all those careful months of planning that bastard went through to lure them there—his followers had to have known. How could they have not? First the Azkaban thing and this—" She choked once more, angrily brushing the tears from her cheeks with the back of her trembling hand. "I should have been able to prevent it. I should have known it was going to happen. He shouldn't be dead."

There was another long pause as she cried, and when it seemed as if her tears were finally abating, priest spoke once more.

"Without the information, there was nothing you could have done. You did your job exactly the way you were supposed to. No blames you."

"I blame myself," she snapped. "I should have done a better job. After everything—after everything I've gone through and done for this bloody cause…after all that, the only decent bloody relative I have still dies. I feel like I've done all of that for nothing, like it didn't help anything."

"You know very well that it wasn't all for nothing," the priest said calmly, looking at his subject, whose head was still bent low as if in prayer. But they both knew she didn't pray, and he was certain she didn't even believe in his god.

She swallowed tightly, closed her eyes, and attempted to regain control of her emotions. If she blocked out the pain, compartmentalized like she'd been taught…

There. No more tears, at least for now.

"I also killed a man two nights ago. If I didn't, he was going to kill me."

This confession was by far the lesser of the two, as far as how she felt about it. She'd killed before—never in cold-blood, always in self-defense. It was her job.

"God forgives you," the priest murmured quietly, and for the first time that night, she turned her head to meet the priest's eyes.

"Will your god understand if I don't forgive myself?"

The amount of pain that went into those words settled heavily in the priest's mind, and her eyes—a shade of indigo he'd never before seen in an iris—bore into his for a moment in time that could have easily lasted forever.

Finally she stood and left the booth, leaving the priest behind to think about the confession he'd just heard. For Nymphadora Tonks, it was never about religion; all she'd ever wanted was for someone to care.


	2. Chapter One

**Chapter One**

* * *

When she looked back on it all, she could never find a clear path from her childhood to adulthood. The road was muddled with 'could have beens' and 'should have beens', and when she really thought about it, even she had to admit that the way things had turned out—it wasn't supposed to be that way. 

But then she thought about it a bit more and realized it was the only way things could have possibly turned out.

It started in Hogwarts, in her Fifth Year if she had to pin it down. From her first days at Hogwarts it had been known that there was something special about Nymphadora Tonks, who seemed to know every single hair styling charm and glamour charm there was. She'd been forbidden by her mother to ever tell anyone about her gifts, at least until she was old enough to understand that not everyone thought it was a privilege the way she did. There were slip-ups, of course, but it wasn't until the third week of Fifth Year when she really messed up.

She didn't often have dreams she could remember, but when she did, they were usually so vivid that they stayed with her for many days after. The appearance 'Dora had chosen for her Hogwarts years was one with dark hair and sky-blue eyes, of average height and slim build. She'd made herself attractive on purpose, enjoying the looks she received from boys of all years and houses.

On that particular morning, she'd had a vivid dream of her aunt, Narcissa, who she hadn't seen since she was a child. It wasn't so much the content of the dream that mattered rather than the fact that when she woke up, it was to the screams of one of the girls she shared a dorm with.

"Who the bloody hell are you and what the bloody fuck are you doing in 'Dora's bed?"

It took 'Dora a few hazy moments to realize why her dormmate, Raya Neelson, was pointing her wand directly at her. When she finally did, she immediately morphed back into her regular appearance, too drowsy to think of the consequences.

Her dormmate shrieked, dropped her wand, and ran from the room as fast as she could. She'd always been dramatic, and usually 'Dora found the girl's antics amusing. This time, however, that was the last thing from her mind. Sighing to herself, 'Dora buried her head under her pillow, wondering what the hell was going to happen now.

The reaction was immediate; when she went down into the Great Hall for breakfast, nearly all conversation stopped when she entered the room. She could feel hundreds of sets of eyes burning into her, and the only reason she decided to go ahead with this complete and utter humiliation was because of how hungry she was.

Conversations eventually started up again and 'Dora sat down, just a bit removed from the rest of her Year. She was usually outgoing and friendly to everyone, but today she decided it would be for the best if she ate her food and ran.

"Oy, 'Dora!" It was Charlie Weasley who spoke to her first, and when he did, nearly the whole table lapsed into silence.

"Yeah?" 'Dora asked wearily, running her fingers through her hair as she idly wondered why she'd morphed into her aunt in her sleep in the first place. She hadn't morphed into anyone unconsciously since she was eight.

And then she remembered; her mother had written her the day before, and in the letter had been a long rant about how her sister's husband was ruining Narcissa's life.

No surprise there. Lucius Malfoy was a certified pureblooded arse, after all.

"Why did you look different this morning?" Charlie continued, apparently oblivious to the stares around them. At least one person had the guts to ask, thought 'Dora.

"Because," she mumbled, sighing inwardly. If there was ever a time to tell, this would be it, no matter what her mother said. "I'm a Metamorphmagus."

That, she was soon to find, would be the statement that would define the rest of her life.

* * *

It started with curious questions from people who were brave enough to approach her; could she change her hair? How about her eyes? What about her legs, could she make herself taller? With each question came a demonstration, until 'Dora grew fed up with the whole thing and made the mistake of changing her appearance to match that of her dormmate's. Raya's eyes had gone wide and her mouth had dropped open to form a silent 'o'. Unfortunately, now the entire Gryffindor Common Room was now staring at them, most shifting back and forth between the two, unable to tell the difference. 

"Hey, can you change into me?"

"How about me?"

"You're a _boy_, Percy, she can't change into you!"

'Dora slowly morphed back into her normal appearance, feeling herself blush to the roots of her hair. She took a seat at the end of the couch, where she was immediately surrounded by a number of on-lookers.

"So you can, like, change into anyone you want to? You can pretend to be someone and no one could ever know the difference?"

Raya had returned to her side, claiming the spot beside her, and was now leaning in eagerly toward 'Dora, who was trying to lean away from her without seeming too obvious.

"I guess," 'Dora said uncertainly, eyeing the crowd that was beginning to form.

"Wow. So you could, like, pretend to be me and make out with my boyfriend?"

'Dora's eyes widened considerably at this.

"No! I mean, yes, maybe, but I would _never_—"

"_Have_ you? You could, right? So have you?"

"What?" 'Dora was beginning to panic, and the number of students around them was growing, making her feel claustrophobic. "No, of course I have, Raya—we're _friends_, I wouldn't—"

"Hey, maybe you can morph into a Slytherin and get into their Common Room! You could find out what they're going to be doing for their Quidditch season!" exclaimed a voice 'Dora recognized as Oliver Wood, a Second Year who had just been accepted onto the Gryffindor Quidditch team.

"Excellent idea!" chimed in Charlie, who 'Dora was beginning to hate.

"Hey 'Dora, _can_ you change into a boy?"

Another Weasley—Percy this time. 'Dora sighed heavily.

"I don't know, I've never tried."

"Are you sure you weren't born a boy and morphed into a girl when you were a baby?" Still Percy, who 'Dora was fairly sure didn't mean to embarrass her so badly.

"Yes I'm sure!" she snapped loudly, feeling as if she were about to cry. "I couldn't morph until I was five, I _know_ what bloody gender I am!"

She felt an angry tear running down her cheek, and even more embarrassed at the prospect of crying in front of all of her housemates, she went to stand and escape. Just as she shifted her weight, however, a hush fell over the crowd as they parted to make way for the Head Boy, Bill Weasley.

"'Dora?" he asked when he reached her, and Raya moved over to make room for him. He didn't sit down beside her, however; instead he kneeled in front of her, making himself just a few inches shorter than she was. "Are you all right?"

She wordlessly shook her head, knowing that if she spoke she'd break out into great blubbering sobs. Bill nodded and took one of her shaking hands, helping her to stand.

"Come on," he insisted quietly, glaring at the crowd—most noticeably Percy. He'd heard the whole thing. His younger brother shied away as they made their way through, and without another word Bill led her up the stairs to the boy's side of the dormitory, where the Head Boy's room was. He mumbled the password—'Firewhiskey'—and the door opened, revealing a small room with only one canopy bed and wardrobe, along with a desk and a small window with a cushioned ledge on which to sit.

Bill closed the door and pulled out a chair for her. 'Dora sat gratefully, running her fingers nervously through her hair, which was still a dark shade of brown so close to black that it was hard to tell the difference.

"So that sucked," he said conversationally, perching himself on the edge of his bed. 'Dora couldn't help but crack a small smile.

"Yeah, well, my mum always told me to keep it to myself, and I tried. I guess this is what she was talking about when she mentioned consequences," she mumbled, looking down at her hands. She sniffed, and a moment later Bill was there, offering her a tissue.

"Thanks." She wiped her tear-stained cheeks before wiping her nose, depositing the tissue in a bin next to Bill's desk. "I can't help it, I don't know why everyone keeps bothering me."

"Metamorphmagi are really rare," Bill pointed out, as if she didn't already know that. "You're a bit of a novelty, that's all."

"I don't want to be," she muttered darkly, sticking her hands between her knees to keep herself from playing with her hair nervously.

"It'll die down eventually," Bill promised, although 'Dora knew he had no way of knowing that.

"I don't know how, with Raya as my roommate," she grumbled. "I hate that girl, I swear—"

"You don't hate her, you just hate that she outsed you in front of everyone," Bill murmured in a comforting manner, and she knew he was right this time.

"Yeah, but still." A pathetic retort.

"How about this," Bill said in a much more chipper tone. "You stay in here with me tonight and we'll deal with everything in the morning."

'Dora frowned. "Isn't that…er, against the rules?"

Bill shrugged. "Doesn't matter, McGonagall and the Headmaster will understand. I promise I don't snore. I'll conjure a cot for myself and you can take the bed."

She pressed her lips together nervously. "You're sure? I mean—I don't want to get you in trouble. Or me. I don't want to get anyone in trouble."

"You won't," Bill promised, and 'Dora wanted desperately to believe him. The last thing she wanted to do was to go back to her dormitory to face Raya.

"It's settled then," he said cheerfully. "I don't want to hear any objections from you, either."

'Dora sighed, knowing she had no choice. At least the rumours that would undoubtedly form about her and Bill would given the school something else to talk about than whether or not she was really a girl.


	3. Chapter Two

**Chapter Two**

* * *

Looking back on it, Nymphadora Tonks realised that was where it all started—the moment she agreed to spend the night in Bill's dormitory. She'd been right, at least; the rumours about her and Bill overshadowed any question her morphing abilities might have raised, but what she didn't foresee was how the two would merge.

At breakfast the next day, a Seventh Year she vaguely recognized came up to her, a jaunty smile playing across his lips. Instead of setting her at ease, his smile only made her even more nervous than she already was. Yesterday's questions and taunts had been enough; she didn't need anyone else butting in.

"Nymphadora Tonks, right?" the boy asked, taking a seat beside her and draping his arm over her shoulders. 'Dora flinched, both because of her name and his arm, and immediately shrugged the offending limb off.

"It's 'Dora," she muttered through gritted teeth. "The only people who call me Nymphadora are the ones with a death wish."

The boy laughed, as if she were joking. She realised he was so daft that the chances of that were more than probable. "I heard you spent the night with Bill Weasley last night. A charmer, isn't he?"

'Dora frowned slightly and glanced around for help from anyone, but everyone else seemed to be engrossed in their own conversation, with the occasional glances thrown her way that let her know they were talking about her.

The boy must have interpreted her lack of response as a yes, because he once again tried to drape his arm over her shoulders, although this time 'Dora was eager enough to get to the bottom of all this that she let him.

"I'll make you a deal," he said in a lower voice, glancing around to evidently make sure no one was listening. "Raya—she's in your dorm, right? She told me you can transform to look like her—like anyone, right?"

Again, she didn't answer; inwardly, however, she was boiling with rage at that backstabbing dormmate of hers.

"I'll give you twenty galleons if you morph into the girl of my choosing and spend the night in my dorm."

And then 'Dora realised what he was hinting at. Too shocked to speak, she gaped at him as if he'd grown a second head. Remembering suddenly that he still had his arm around her, and jerked out of his grip and stood up so fast she nearly knocked the bench over.

"No!" she exclaimed, disgusted. "What d'ya think I am, some bloody—"

And then it hit her. Of course he did. She'd stayed the night with _Bill Weasley._ The whole school probably thought they'd stayed up all night going at it like rabid bunnies.

Merlin, she was stupid.

And to throw her morphing abilities into the mix—of course. Every bloke in the school would think of that before the day was out.

She'd officially been reduced to a sex toy. A virginal sex toy, but still a sex toy.

Hot, angry tears prickled in the back of her eyeballs, and it was all she could do to get from Gryffindor table to—well, anywhere, she didn't care at that point in time, just as long as it was anywhere but the Great Hall.

By the time she reached the main stairs, she was nearly blind through her tears and her face felt hot. Her skin crawled where the boy had had his arm around her shoulders, and all she could concentrate on was the amount of hot water she was going to be using to wash the filth away.

That was when she ran head-on into the root of all her problems.

"'Dora?"

She looked up only to see a blur of red hair and a blob that might've been a face, but she didn't have to see him to recognize his voice.

"Get out of my way, Bill," she muttered venomously, trying to push past him, but damn that boy for having so much bloody strength!

"What's wrong?" he insisted, setting his hand on her shoulder and holding on tightly. It wasn't enough to bruise, but she knew the skin would be red when he let go. She wasn't helping much either, struggling like she was. "For the love of Merlin, _calm down_! Are they teasing you again, is that what's going on? Because I swear, I'm going to kick Percy's arse—"

"No!" she exclaimed, trying against to wrench free. "It's not him, it's _you_!"

At this confession Bill finally dropped his arm, and 'Dora took a step back so she was outside of his reach. "Whatd'ya mean, it's me?" Bill asked, frowning. "Do they think you and I…?"

"Of course they do!" 'Dora snapped, so angry she was trembling. "The entire school now thinks we were up the entire night shagging! And to top it off, because everyone knows what I can do, people are looking at me funny and this—this _arse_ came up to me and told me he'd give me twenty galleons if I turned into anyone he wanted and—and had sex with him!"

Instead of the disgusted reaction she'd been expected, Bill merely watched her, as if he were thinking something through. She opened her mouth to ask what the hell was wrong with him, but he got there before she could.

"Y'know, I didn't think of that."

Her mouth dropped open.

"_What_? You—you _pig_!"

"Wait," Bill said suddenly, holding up his hand just as she was about to storm off. Against her better judgment, 'Dora waited, crossing her arms over her chest tightly.

"I didn't mean it like that," he said in a measured voice. "I meant that I didn't think of the fact that people would jump to that sort of conclusion—that you'd change and…" He left the sentence unfinished. "It was stupid of me to overlook that, and I apologise."

Taken aback, 'Dora opened and closed her mouth several times before finding the words to form a sentence.

"So—now what?"

Bill leaned back against the railing of the staircase, blowing a strand of long red hair out of his eyes. "So I'm thinking, why does it matter? So what if a few dumbarses think we had sex? What's it going to hurt? Your reputation? 'Dora, from the moment this whole mess started, your reputation was ruined. On top of this, people are going to start to suspect you, think you change to look like other people to get what you want. It was bound to happen, and unfortunately this is just a side effect."

'Dora swallowed hard and blinked. "But—what can I—how can I fix it?"

Bill shrugged. "I don't think there is a way to fix it. But one thing you can do is ignore it. Things'll die down eventually, they always do, and until then you just have to keep your chin up and try not to kill someone."

His attempt at humour wasn't enough to make her laugh, but the corner of her mouth did turn upwards slightly. "So either way, I'm screwed, is that what you're saying?"

Bill nodded. "Yep. But the good news is, you're welcome to spend the night with me any time you want—in a platonic way, of course."

"Of course," Tonks mumbled, glancing over her shoulder at the doors that led into the Great Hall, torn between hitting something and sobbing.

That day was one of the worst Nymphadora Tonks had experienced in her life. The few friends she had pretended to be sympathetic, but she knew it was only a front. She received three more propositions from boys in various houses, and each one was met with a frigid stare and two of 'Dora's favourite fingers.

By the time lessons and dinner were over, 'Dora felt as if she were going to fall to pieces at any moment. Trembling, she avoided the Common Room that night and went directly up to her empty dormitory, where she found Raya Neelson kneeling before her trunk, sifting through the contents.

"Raya!" 'Dora exclaimed, rushing to pull the girl away from her personal belongings. "What the hell—"

"You are such a whore!" Raya shouted, and it was then when 'Dora noticed she was crying. "Don't deny it, I saw you with your filthy little paws all over Brad!"

_Brad? Who the hell was Brad?_

Raya must have seen the look on 'Dora's face, because she balled her hands up into fists and took a step closer to her.

"At breakfast today, I _saw_ you talking to him, letting him touch you—and one of the Weasley twins told me what he said to you! He offered you twenty galleons if you'd have sex with him, didn't he?"

'Dora's mouth dropped open, but when she went to stutter out a reply, Raya cut her off.

"Where's the money then?" Raya demanded, throwing a text book she'd been holding back into 'Dora's trunk. "Where'd you put it? If you're going to—going to do _that_ with _my_ boyfriend, I swear—!"

Tears were streaming down Raya's face, and 'Dora just started at her in confusion.

"I didn't—" she started, but Raya just shook her head.

"Don't lie to me," she snapped bitterly. "If you'd do it with Bill for nothing, then why refuse money? Everyone says you and Bill spent the night together, and someone even said they heard you _moaning_ like some—some two-pence _whore_!"

Raya raised her wand, and for one terrifying moment 'Dora thought she was going to jinx her. When everything she owned flew into her trunk in a messy heap, followed by the trunk lid slamming shut, however, she almost wished Raya had cursed her instead.

"You're not allowed in here anymore," Raya growled. "Everyone agrees. Go sleep in someone else's bed, you worthless cunt."

Stunned, 'Dora had no words to formulate a reply, much less a defence. She felt lightheaded and short of breath, but when her trunk slid out of the dormitory with help from Raya's wand, she had little choice but to follow. After she nearly tripped over herself to leave the room, the heavy door slammed shut behind her, leaving 'Dora feeling completely alone in the middle of the Gryffindor girls corridor.


	4. Chapter Three

**Chapter Three** _

* * *

Author's Note: There's adult content in this chapter and will be in most from here on out. I've upped the rating to M. There is actual plot reasons for all of this to happen as well, so don't start up with the flaming just yet._

* * *

As the clock in the Common Room struck ten, 'Dora levitated her trunk up the steps to the boys' side of the tower. It didn't take her long to reach Bill's door, and when she knocked hesitantly, she heard a flurry of movement coming from inside his room, along with a strangled "Hold on!" 

She bit her lip and looked over her shoulder, once again fighting back tears. She hated herself for doing this, but she had no choice; it was either this or sleep by the fire in the main room, and if she did that, there was no saying what sort of state her trunk would be in by the time she woke up. Diverting her eyes downwards, she folded her arms over her chest, hugging herself tightly. It was cold out in the corridor, and she wished Bill would open the door.

Finally he did so, and as 'Dora's eyes moved upwards, she realized he was wearing only a pair of boxers. To make matters even worse, the bulge set perfectly between his legs was far too telling of what he'd been up to.

No pun intended.

"Oh god!" 'Dora exclaimed, instantly hiding her eyes and ducking away. "I'm sorry, I didn't—"

"'Dora?"

Bill took a step closer to her and tentatively set his hand on her shoulder. She shrugged it away, unable to think about anything except for where that hand must have just been.

"'Dora." This time Bill's voice was firm, no-nonsense, and 'Dora forced herself to look at his face—_only_ his face.

"I'm sorry," she repeated, her eyes automatically moving downwards again before she caught herself. "I didn't mean to—to interrupt or—"

Bill let out a light, nervous laugh, and she saw him look at her trunk. "Don't worry, you didn't interrupt anything. What's all of this?"

_On the contrary,_ 'Dora thought. "It's my trunk. I got kicked out of my dormitory. Are they allowed to do that?"

Bill shrugged and turned away from her just long enough for her eyes to drift downwards and notice how perfectly round the outline of his arse was through his boxers. When he turned back around, her eyes snapped upward to meet his as if they'd been there all along. He gave her a strange look and, with a flick of his wand, her trunk was suddenly sliding into his room to settle next to his.

"Wait!" 'Dora gasped, but then a strong hand reached out and took her by the shoulder, pulling her into his room again.

"You're staying in here tonight," Bill said firmly and with a tone that meant business. "And as many nights as it takes for your dorm mates to cool down about whatever it is they're mad about."

'Dora blinked. "But—"

"No buts," Bill interrupted, and 'Dora couldn't help but glance down at his boxers again. They were a blue material that looked rather worn and perhaps a little tight, but that very well might have just been the bulge.

Merlin, she was going to hell.

This time, when she looked back up, Bill caught her eye and on his face danced a knowing smile. "You can look, you know. It's just a penis—a clothed one at that."

'Dora swallowed and blinked several times, unsure whether she was more embarrassed that he'd noticed her looking or that he'd been so damn blunt about the whole thing. Bill caught onto this, too, and his expression settled into an easy grin.

"You know, you're pretty cute when you're blushing," he murmured, taking a step closer to her.

"Yeah, well," she stammered, looking for the right words to say. "I don't mean to—it's just that I've never—"

"You've never what?" Bill asked, suddenly seeming very interested in a clinical way that surprised her. "Seen a penis?"

'Dora felt herself flush an even deeper red, and to her horror, Bill chuckled.

"It's not a sin, you know," he murmured in a voice that could have calmed the maddest of men. "Have you ever had a boyfriend?"

'Dora shook her head, shifting uncomfortably from one foot to the other. Bill took a step closer to her, towering over her in a way that intimidated her more than she was willing to admit.

"Have you ever been kissed?"

This time she looked up into his eyes as she responded. "No."

There was something intoxicating about Bill Weasley. The entire population of Hogwarts knew it, even Bill Weasley himself. Nymphadora Tonks hadn't realised exactly how powerful he was, able to render the perfectly sensible incoherent with his eyes alone, and that was what she blamed for what happened next—those damn eyes of his.

He bent down just enough to come within an inch of her face, and she was more than willing to come up to meet him. When their lips touched, there was none of the fire 'Dora had been expecting all of her life, that first beautiful, fireworks-inducing snog that would make her weak in the knees and short of breath. Instead, all she got was a pair of moist lips and, after a few seconds, an even wetter tongue that quickly found her own. Having no clue what to do, she let Bill lead, eventually getting the hang of this whole kissing thing.

She wasn't sure how long it lasted, but when he finally moved away, she really was short of breath, although she was fairly sure it was only because of the length of time they'd been kissing. Somehow his hands had found their way to her hips, although hers had dangled dormant at her side the entire time, something 'Dora felt rather stupid about. Why hadn't she done anything with her hands?

"Well," Bill murmured, his warm breath tickling her cheek. "We've solved that problem, haven't we?"

Almost immediately 'Dora came to her senses and realised exactly what it was they were doing. She was alone with the Head Boy in his private dormitory, and he was only wearing his boxers.

And, to top it all off, they'd just kissed.

She fought to keep her eyes level, a battle she managed to win, and she took a step back away from him.

"Bill, I—" She nearly choked on her words. "I can't, it's not—I'm sorry, it's just that I've never—I can't—"

"'Dora." Her name rolled off his tongue in a way that made her shut up instantaneously. He stepped forward, closing the distance between them, and kissed her again. This time, however, it was a simple, almost chaste kiss, his hand sliding up to cup her cheek.

"You're fine," he whispered. "I'm sorry if I upset you. I promise that if you don't want me to do that, I never will again."

'Dora couldn't answer this; she was too disoriented to know exactly what it was she wanted to begin with.

"I'm going to turn around now so you can change into your pajamas, okay?" Bill asked, and 'Dora nodded dumbly. He brushed his thumb underneath her eye, and she felt a spark jolt directly downwards to the sensitive spot between her legs. Before she could register what was happening properly, Bill removed his hand and she almost mewed in protest. He took a step back and gave her a reassuring smile, and this was when 'Dora looked down once more to the bulge in his boxers.

It had grown significantly since she'd last peeked, to the point where she could almost make out the shape.

Bill Weasley had no shame.

Blushing again, she ducked down to open her trunk as Bill turned around properly, chuckling softly to himself. Only a minute later, she was dressed in her favourite nightshirt, her dirty robes folded neatly next to her trunk.

"Okay," she whispered, and he turned back around. There was a mischievous twinkle in his eyes that reminded her all too much of what had just happened, and she tugged at the ends of her hair nervously, unsure of what to say.

"I'm going to sleep on the cot again," Bill said without room for argument, "and you're going to take the bed."

"Okay," 'Dora mumbled, making a mental note to claim the cot before he could tomorrow night. He pulled back the blankets for her, patting the pillows firmly, and she avoided looking at him as she climbed into the comfortable four-poster bed. It smelled strongly of him, something she definitely didn't object to. As she snuggled down between the sheets and blankets, she finally plucked up the courage to watch him again, this time as he moved about the room, blowing out candles.

From the side the bulge looked even larger, and 'Dora's eyes widened slightly at the prospect of being the one to have caused even a portion of that.

"Bill?"

His name was out before she could stop herself from speaking.

He paused in his movements around the room, turning to look at her. "Yeah?"

'Dora pressed her lips together tightly, still able to taste Bill in her mouth. "I—I liked the kiss. Thank you."

His expression dissolved into a warm smile. "I liked it, too. Thank _you_."

He held her stare for a long moment before blowing out another candle and moving toward the bed. There were only two candles left, both on the nightstand next to her head.

"Bill?"

Again she spoke without being able to stop herself, and this time he sat down gingerly on the edge of the bed when he replied. "Yeah?"

In the glow of the candle, she could clearly make out the mass underneath the cloth of his boxers, and seeing it so close sent another tingle between her thighs.

"I—" She bit her lip. "Did I…?"

She glanced down at his partial erection, and Bill seemed to get her meaning immediately. He laughed lightly and reached out to stroke her cheek just as he'd done before she'd changed clothes.

"That's all you, 'Dora."

Her tongue darted out to moisten her lips as she overtly stared. She didn't know what to say to that; it was a compliment, she supposed, but at the same time she knew she should feel at least a little dirty. Bill was two years older than her, after all, and much more experienced. She'd never even kissed a guy up until five minutes ago, and now—

"Can I touch it?"

His surprised showed on his face for only a fraction of a second. His eyes held her gaze for a long moment before he finally nodded.

"If you want, yes."

She tentatively sat up so she was closer to him, and he shifted so he was turned more towards her. With a shaking hand she reached out, first to touch the soft fabric that covered his hip, surprised to find how thin the material really was. Her fingers slowly moved toward the bulge, her eyes fixed on the wonder that she'd caused.

When the tips of her fingers found the warm flesh, she almost gasped at the feeling. He was much harder than she thought he'd be, and with each stroke of her fingers, he seemed to grow even harder. When 'Dora looked up at Bill's face, she saw that his eyes were half-closed and his lips parted in a way that made her want to kiss him so badly that she almost leaned forward and did it right then.

It was his strangled gasp that brought her back into reality, and she realised that her fingers were now wrapped around his large shaft, moving up and down as if she were polishing a broomstick. The analogy made her grin, and with another look at Bill's face, she decided it was time to pull away.

"Wha—" He sounded confused and his eyes flew open, clouded by obvious pleasure. "You don't have to stop."

"I know," she replied, feeling much braver now that she'd seen the effect such a small gesture could have on him. "I just figured it'd feel a lot better if you took your boxers off."

It was his turn to stare at her, and 'Dora was pleased to see that he looked just as shocked as she'd felt only minutes before, when he'd kissed her. To her satisfaction, she saw that she wouldn't have to make the suggestion twice; in an instant he was wriggling out of his boxers, leaving him fully naked, and before 'Dora could blush and avert her eyes from the erection that was now full-blown, he was kissing her again.

"You're beautiful," he murmured, his breath hot on her skin. "Do you know how good you make me feel?"

This time, 'Dora kissed him back. "No. How good do I make you feel?"

Bill pulled away, but this time there was an evil glint in his eye. "I could show you, if you want."

The offer was something she hadn't been expecting, but because 'Dora could barely take her eyes from him and because his bed was so damn warm and soft, and because she didn't have anywhere else to go, she let him.

It didn't hurt as much as she thought it would, but there was just enough blood to scare her. Afterwards, as she lay wrapped in Bill Weasley's arms listening to his steady breathing, she thought about crying—but she didn't.

She realised that for the first time in days, she was happy.


End file.
